poetry critical

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That Month was like a Thousand Songs in the Same Key

i remember
the way the leaves changed
color leaving red streaks,
gold leaf on wet pavement,
soft hues entangled in your hair
the way you
fell asleep with windows open
listening to crickets, birds,
the hiss of rain.
the way you woke to
no sun, long days,
still asleep at noon,
and i remember
limp ochre tresses
still wet from shy october storms.
i remember sweaters soaked
on skin and bone
and i remember
the creak of front doors,
calling calling
chipped paint names.

8 Mar 07

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the development in this is brilliant, and the sonics equally so. the last line isn't up to par with the rest of the work, though. and as far as specific criticism goes, 'your' in line 5 can be erased, but that's all.

i much enjoyed this, keep it up.
 — Virgil

Thanks, Virgil.
I kinda feel like the "your" in line five is necessary; without it, the "you" in line six feels awkward to me. But I'll think about it for sure.

I always feel so weird about last lines. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.
 — the_recluse


and i remember
the creak of the doors
inviting you inside

i'll have to think about it more. even if you don't take the recommendation, it feels like it should leave on a note regarding her relationship to you, overtly or otherwise.
 — Virgil

Virgil - I get what you mean. Thanks again.

 — unknown